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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175787">Things keep changing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani'>Arzani</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>changing things (Clovis in the Accidental Warlord AU) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In a way, Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and His Pack Series - inexplicifics, Introspection, Libraries, Past Rape/Non-con, very mild tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:14:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clovis deals with his decision to not be an asshole anymore, and having the support of Nina, apparently.</p><p>Inspired by inexplicifics wonderful Accidental Warlord and his Pack series.<br/>Also I will make you like Clovis and if it's the last thing I do xD</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clovis (The Witcher)/Original female character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>changing things (Clovis in the Accidental Warlord AU) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>318</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Things keep changing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603220">Live On a Hill Against the Sky</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics">inexplicifics</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was an asshole. He was an asshole and women didn’t like him, because he made lewd comments and was in general pretty rude. Women didn’t like him and yet… and yet, Nina of all women in the keep had pressed a kiss on his cheek. For being rude, at that.</p><p>Hand pressed on his cheek, he had made it into his room finally, and had managed to avoid most witchers, too. For him it was easy to avoid people, because most people didn’t like him. Again, he was rude and an asshole. He was used to being avoided and having people react towards him with fear or disgust. The stench of burnt onion in his nose was a familiar scent. Had been a familiar scent. Things have changed after all, here in Kaer Morhen and for witchers in general.</p><p>Nina hadn’t smelled of fear. She had smelled of sunflower fields and sunshine and green grass. Nice. Very, very nice. His heart fluttered and he went to bed with that strange feeling in his chest. Tomorrow it would be gone, he was sure of it. Tomorrow things would be back to normal. Or as normal as they could be, with all the changes in the keep.</p><hr/><p>Things didn’t go back to normal. Or, well, they hadn’t really changed at all. Only what did change every day, but that was kind of normal, too. Because it seemed the new normal of the keep was things changing, even though no one believed they could change until they did.</p><p>However, while the new normal didn’t go away and things kept changing, the damned feeling inside him stayed, and very persistently so. It wasn’t like he could avoid Nina. He tried and most of the time it didn’t even take him much effort. At breakfast, the servants used to be absent and it wasn’t like supper, where everyone ate at the same time. He was used to coming somewhere around the middle time, when everything was dished out, but not everyone had gotten to eat yet. The servants came out later, to clear the cutlery and plates and bowls away. As did Nina. Because she worked in the kitchens, washing dishes and serving plates and as far as he knew, helped cooking.</p><p>Like a woman should. But honestly, he didn’t even know anymore what a woman should or shouldn’t do.</p><p>Women were to cook and mend and clean, and men were to hunt and work and have a go at their wives whenever they wanted. But fuck his father and fuck his words and fuck everything his fahter had ever tried to teach Clovis. Because he could finally see what horseshit it had been.</p><p>Men were to have a go at their wives whenever they wanted… and kings could have a go at their servants whenever they wanted, and because they were kings they had all the power and because they were men they had all the power and women hurt and hurt and hurt and the stench of burnt onion in his nose threatened to overwhelm him. He could almost smell his mother emitting the scent of fear, even though he hadn’t been a witcher back then. He had only been five and helpless.</p><p>He gulped the overwhelming feeling down, and quit breakfast and went to lash out at some training dummies… or maybe a bear would offer themselves up to train with him.</p><p>It was easy to avoid Nina during the day.</p><hr/><p>It was easy to avoid Nina during the day, but by the gods, he couldn’t avoid her during supper. She dished out the plates. Many a servant carried out the full bowls of food, the baskets of bread rolls, the mugs of ale. Usually the same people served the same tables. Nina had always dished out their bowls, and baskets and mugs. His table, his and Gweld’s and Rennes’. It was why he knew her name.</p><p>She had never smelled of fear.</p><p>Yesterday she had placed a kiss on his cheek. When she placed a mug of ale in front of him she smiled and he was glad that witchers couldn’t blush.</p><p>Why was his heart beating faster? And why did Rennes of all people look at him with a raised eyebrow, scenting the air innocently?</p><p>The end of supper couldn’t come fast enough.</p><hr/><p>The next day went the same as the previous. And the next. And the next. And the next.</p><p>After a week and a half, Clovis had almost gotten used to Nina smiling at him at one point or another during supper. Had gotten used to her whispering a snide remark or an observation about one witcher or another into his ear. Had almost gotten used to her smell of sunflower fields and green grass, and the happiness, and the feeling in his chest. Almost. But not enough that when Rennes - Rennes of all people, who had always managed to read him better than others, who had never put too much effort into seeing his assholery but all the more effort into seeing his buried care - which care, fucking Melitele? He didn’t care. He was an asshole. He never cared, but for his fellow wolves and the keep and his mother, and those who - ah fuck it.</p><p>Rennes knew him. Rennes had saved his father’s life, had been offered the law of surprise and had been invited into his father’s home. The first thing his father had seen was him, and he had been given to the witchers and Rennes had slept one last night in his father’s home and had seen his mother argue about giving him away, and had seen his father shout at his mother and had heard him ‘plow another boy into her womb’ at night.</p><p>Even though he had only barely grasped by then what that meant.</p><p>He knew now.</p><p>Burnt onion stench.</p><p>Rennes grasped his shoulders, holding him tight, while his old mentor spoke and spoke, but no word registered in his head until the smell of burnt onion vanished, because it hadn’t been there. They were in the hallway to the great hall, and he was shaking and Rennes pressed his forehead to his.</p><p>“Why does she keep smiling at me?” he whispered, words sharp and breathless. And Rennes lips quirked, a sad imitation of a smile, talking back.</p><p>“Because you’re not your father, Clovis.”</p><p>“You’re my father,” he immediately replied, the remark carved into his very bones. An iteration he kept repeating because he wanted to believe it himself. Always had, always would be. They both wanted to believe it, but just this reply proved that he couldn’t forget, like most of the other witchers did. But most of the other witchers had been younger than he had been, when they had brought him to the keep.</p><p>He understood Lambert’s anger like he understood his own. Probably why they got along just fine.</p><hr/><p>“You’re not your father, Clovis.”</p><p>The words accompanied him into the night, kept him awake, until he decided to settle into a sort of meditation, just to find rest.</p><p>He couldn’t stop his thoughts from circling. Never had. He knew meditation was to focus and settle, to stop the thoughts swirling in your head and center yourself. He’d never been particularly good at meditation until he found a way to keep one part of his brain focused on his thoughts, while the rest centered. It was a deal he made with himself. He found it a rather shit deal, but it was better than nothing.</p><p>He meditated. He thought.</p><hr/><p>Witchers were raised with some fundamental ground rules and if they didn’t keep to those rules they were sent out into the mountains to never return. Few boys had to be put out. Fewer were considered to be put out and had trainers argue against it. He had watched Vesemir defend Lambert until he had been given the chance. Had the old wolf argue and argue and argue until his words stuck.</p><p>They still did. Vesemir’s words were heavy and weighted.</p><p>As were Rennes’ words. He didn’t know if the head of the school had argued for him. If he had the need to. He just knew he had always been an asshole.</p><p>One of the rules was to endure.</p><p>Don’t lash out, don’t kill humans but in self defence. Don’t get involved. Don’t force yourself on women. Only take coin and always pay your fare. When your body seems to explode visit a brothel.</p><p>Clovis understood all the rules but the last. He had endured the hatred on the path and hadn’t lashed out. He had stayed away from humans as good as possible because they didn’t like him anyway. He didn’t force himself on women because they were weak, and it wouldn’t be a fair fight - and the stench of burnt onion… he suppressed the memory - and he paid up when he stayed in inns, or bought supplies. Coin was rare, but he hadn’t much use for other things, except for food and supplies. But taking food as payment, as far as he was aware, was okay. So… the rules for the path had been easy to follow.</p><p>When your body seems to explode visit a brothel. But why would he spend coin on a brothel, when coin was so sparse, especially for a witcher?</p><p>He knew about sex. He knew about sex since he was four and knew a man could have a go at his wife whenever he wanted since he was five and he knew the woman screamed and hurt during sex and he knew his fellow brothers visited a brothel sometimes and he had tried and payed a whore exactely three times and it had been a lot of limbs and sweat and bodily fluids and his thoughts had swirled and the women had smelled very, very faintly of burnt onion, even though they had so much perfume on them it masked the stench pretty good, but still he had smelled it, and he didn’t really care for brothels and sex and he couldn’t see what was so special about it or the women anyway? At least, whenever he had sex with a whore, they didn’t scream or cry. At least.</p><p>That was a fucking lot of thoughts for trying to meditate.</p><p>He knew how some of his fellow witchers looked at each other. He knew how Auckes looked at Zofia. He knew they didn’t scream or hurt when they took each other to bed - until Yennefer had arrived the rooms hadn’t been soundproofed and witchers had sensitive ears. He knew, but in a way, he couldn’t understand and didn’t want to.</p><p>Back on the path he had taken the money he had to spare to rather get himself another honey cake instead of visiting a brothel and now…</p><p>...now he was an asshole and people didn’t like him anyway.</p><p>But Nina smiled at him and she smelled of sunflower happiness and green grass, she reminded him of his mother on her rare days of happiness and she was beautiful, with her brown eyes, her smirk, the curls of her dark hair falling into her face and he wanted to keep that image of her, smiling at him, in his memory forever.</p><p>His heart fluttered and his concentration slipped and he decided that he could quit meditation for now. He drifted to sleep.</p><hr/><p>He couldn’t avoid supper, so he couldn’t avoid Nina, and if she liked to talk to him, he wanted to indulge her. So rarely did people like to talk to him, but she did. She always smelled happy when they talked, so he assumed she liked to talk to him. If his instincts didn’t betray him, but he was a witcher for fuck’s sake. What good was his nose if he couldn’t trust it, even if he didn’t understand.</p><p>He talked to her, loved when she smiled at him, and listened to her talking about random things. Watched how she moved her body, her long limbs, her arms and legs. She was tall, but not gangly, and soft, but strong. She stacked plates after plates, another and another, and talked to him and then, she carried those stacks of plates to the kitchen. There were many plates and they could be heavy and by now he could admit that women could be strong, too. Nina was. He just knew.</p><p>“Sera said her father wanted her to work for Duke Velen. Beat her black and blue when she refused. I understand why she made her way up here,” Nina told him. The new girl, the one that had led to Nina kissing him on the cheek, seemed to settle in. She had finally opened up, and Nina told him all about it.</p><p>“Who is Duke Velen?” he asked, because he genuinely had no idea and because he couldn’t understand why you would let yourself be beaten over a workplace. Nina reached for another plate and put it on top of her little tower. By now it had gotten quite high and very wobbly but she kept on talking, instead of moving towards the kitchen.</p><p>“Uncle of the Redanian King. Old and quite the bastard. Several wives of his died already and servants seem to vanish suddenly. Especially the pretty ones.”</p><p>She didn’t need to elaborate, especially looking at her grim face. Something in his stomach turned and he wanted to beat all the kings and dukes and nobles who treated their servants so poorly black and blue, just so they knew what all the women had to go through. But not without Geralt’s go. They had to play by the rules now. Even though Redania wasn’t on their list, yet, and hopefully wouldn’t be ever. But maybe it should.</p><p>He wasn’t one for politics. Too complicated.</p><p>“Glad you’re here then. And she.”</p><p>At the words Nina smiled at him, her brilliant, clear smile that got her eyes to sparkle. She even chuckled a little and her scent, by the gods, he loved that scent of sunflower happiness.</p><p>“Don’t tell her that, she still believes you're an asshole.”</p><p>“I am,” he replied but Nina only laughed. It was carefree. It was mocking. It was endearing.</p><p>“Sure.” With that word she lifted the stack of plates from the table, and did a step. Then another. Then her arms began to shake and before she could drop them, Clovis was by her side, sliding his own hands under hers. The stack of plates stayed upright.</p><p>“Give that to me,” he demanded and when Nina opened her mouth, growled a little. “They’re no use broken on the ground.” Blinking, Nina gave the plates over. They were quite heavy. Not for a witcher, but for a human.</p><p>“Did you just call me incapabable?” Nina asked, but her voice was teasing. He grunted and made his way towards the kitchen. On his heel, Nina, who gladly opened the doors for him.</p><p>“No, but foolish. You never take that many plates.”</p><p>Next to him Nina chuckled but didn’t deign to answer him. But he swore she muttered “noble asshole, indeed” under her breath. It sounded fond and his traitorous heart fluttered again.</p><hr/><p>When they reached the kitchen Marlene looked at him strangely but showed him where to put the plates and made pretty clear that Nina wasn’t to “waste any more time flirting.” Too many eyes on him, and the knowledge that you didn’t fuck with the head chef, led him to murmur some goodbyes and flee the scene. As he closed the kitchen door behind himself, his ears picked up Marlene’s voice.</p><p>“How did you tame that wolf?” she asked and Nina answered her.</p><p>“I talked to him?”</p><p>“Talk, I see.” That was Marlene, again. She sounded sceptical. He damned his witcher hearing and walked faster. This wasn’t a conversation he was supposed to hear. By now they should know how good their witcher hearing was. Seemed they forgot pretty easily.</p><p>“Yes, talking.” Nina sounded angry. “He may seem like an asshole, but he’s not. He’s careful and mindful and he never touched any of us. You know where I come from, where we come from. I wouldn’t -”</p><p>Finally the voice drowned out, but Nina’s words stuck with him. He walked and walked, trying to make sense of it and found himself in the battlements. As he watched the sun go down, he tried to sort his mind.</p><p>She found him mindful and careful. She didn’t think him an asshole. But honestly by now he knew that. Still, it was different to hear instead of just assuming.</p><p>But that wasn’t what bugged him. Well at least not much. Or not the most. What bugged him was “You know where I come from.”</p><p>Where did she come from, and why was it important?</p><p>The sun vanished, the world turned blue, and yet he didn’t find an answer.</p><hr/><p>He debated with himself the whole next day. During breakfast Rennes looked at him worryingly, but he just shrugged and was thankfully left alone. At training he got his ass beaten by Gweld and then by Eskel and he couldn’t care less. He had to make a decision and he didn’t know what to do.</p><p>Should he ask or should he leave it alone? After all, the conversation hadn’t been for his ears. But he had heard and now he knew and making things up didn’t help. It would be a breach of trust to not say something.</p><p>He sighed, tried to drown himself in the hot springs and only got back up when some hand reached for his shoulder. Well, it wasn’t like he really tried to drown himself - he actually enjoyed being alive, especially now with Geralt being the Warlord of the North things had gotten pretty good for witchers. He just stayed underwater for a very long time. He liked the silence, the water, the feeling of floating. Water was nice. Water was easy.</p><p>When supper turned around, he still didn’t know what to do. Yet, as always - or as he had done in the last few weeks - he stayed until the servants showed up to clean up the plates and when he saw Nina walk over to him smiling, suddenly it seemed a lot easier to ask than it had during the day.</p><p>He placed a hand on her arm, moving slowly and just so that she noticed his movement. He didn’t want to startle her.</p><p>“Can I… uhm, ask you something?” he asked her when she looked at him with her soft brown eyes. They always seemed to gleam in the light. She seemed to shudder under his touch and her sunflower scent turned a bit sweeter. Like honey.</p><p>“Well, you already did,” she answered, teasing. The edges of her mouth fell though, when he didn’t reply to her remark. “What is it?”</p><p>He shook his head, but tried to smile, to let her know it wasn’t something… well, bad.</p><p>“Not here, later. After you are done?” He had no idea how long it took for her to finish cleaning up after supper, but he could wait. He would wait.</p><p>“That will take a while. You witchers need a lot of plates and we can only clean one at a time,” she mused and a part of his brain wondered if the mages couldn’t make that easier somehow for the servants, but the other part was occupied by her stance and the way her scent hadn’t changed, was still sunflower happiness and so, so nice.</p><p>“Don’t care. I can wait.” He stopped. Wondered how to proceed. But fortunately Nina took that decision from him. She smiled.</p><p>“I’ll find you.”</p><p>He released a breath and nodded. “I’m outside or in the library.” And honestly, she just had to shout a little louder, and he would hear and find her.</p><hr/><p>He had tried to train, but was clumsy and distracted, so he gave up after the fifth time of landing on his ass. He considered taking another dip in the hot spring but when he went to his room to get another change of clothes he feared he actually would drown this time - he wouldn’t, of course, but the ants under his skin tickled. He wiped himself down with a rag, threw on some clean clothes and wandered around the keep. At last he ended up in the library.</p><p>It was a peaceful place. Usually empty but for one elder or another. It was dusty and stuffed, with couches and shelves over shelves of books. Leather and paper and dust lay in the air. Hundreds of years of witcher history were encapsulated in this place and it gave him a sense of tininess. He was small compared to the flow of time. It was humbling.</p><p>His fingers danced over the spines of the books, until he stopped and randomly picked one book up. Green leather cover, faded letters. Handwritten. He settled into a couch and opened it. A quick scan told him it was about plants and ingredients and potions. He read.</p><p>A plant found in the southern region of Cintra, enhancing the healing aspects of Kiss. The drawing was faint, but he got the idea. He’d never seen such a plant before. Would Triss Merigold be interested in such knowledge. Did she know? Was this book even accurate? His thoughts blended into each other, but for once didn’t swirl. Didn’t drive him crazy. Just flowed, and flowed, until…</p><p>“Clovis?”</p><p>The voice reached his ear from the entrance and he hummed, before he realized that Nina probably didn’t hear him. She wasn’t a witcher.</p><p>“I’m here,” he said, a little louder than he usually would. Steps announced her and a moment later a curly head peeked at him, one eyebrow raised.</p><p>“What’re you reading?”</p><p>“Potions, plants. It’s handwritten by a witcher long dead. Don’t know if they were any good then, his potions,” he remarked and it made her chuckle. She came closer - so unafraid - and flopped down on the couch next to him. Sunflower happiness and green grass. Her smell clung to his nose and he took a deep breath.</p><p>“Are you scenting me?” she asked, teasing, again. It still amazed him. Probably would, always.</p><p>“Maybe?” He smirked. Couldn’t keep the snark back. She just had that effect on him.</p><p>“I hope I smell good,” she said and he suppressed a groan. She had no idea.</p><p>“Yes. Like sunflowers.”</p><p>Her cheeks turned red. A sweet blush. It suited her. But she didn’t indulge in it for long. Or well, he couldn’t indulge in it for long, because she shook her head slightly and it disappeared.</p><p>“What did you want to ask me?”</p><p>How did he answer that? For all his thinking, and deciding whether to ask or not, he hadn’t actually thought about how to ask. Stupid witcher. Really, stupid. You didn’t go into a battle unprepared. He gulped. Looked at her. Somehow his nerves settled.</p><p>“I heard you, after I carried the plates into the kitchen. Well at least I heard a little bit.” She blushed again. Her smell changed. Turned a little sour. Embarrassed. She didn’t have to be. How to… he had no idea how to convey that. “Not much, I … ehm … don’t be embarrassed. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.” He tried to stress that bit. “I just heard and couldn’t make sense of it and didn’t want to hold it from you, because I heard.” He stopped. Took a breath. Looked at her. She looked back. The scent of embarrassment had vanished. Good.</p><p>“I don’t judge you and I really appreciate that you take the effort to tell me. Also, I keep witcher hearing in mind next time.” She smirked and he smiled. Something in him settled, again.</p><p>“You said to Marlene that she knows where you come from… and it sounded important. And I don’t want to assume, because I have the habit of thinking too much.”</p><p>She blinked at that, and then laughed, almost silently. “You don’t seem like it. Thinking too much, I mean.”</p><p>He grinned at her lopsidedly. “Well, I know. Secret witcher weapon. Play dumb, be smart. Or so.”</p><p>It made her cuckle. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” He shook his head, sheepishly. Not anymore at least.</p><p>Silence fell between them after that and Nina wrung her hands. Again she emitted some nervous smell and a very nervous energy. So much that he took her hand just to still it. It kept him on edge, her fiddling. She didn’t protest. She just looked at him and sighed.</p><p>“I, as well as five others of my sisters” - Sisters, she had referred to her closest friends here in the keep as sisters, even though it was simply impossible for them to be. He hadn’t pried. They were all servants here, did a good job, and never smelled of burned onion. That was enough. “have been freed by a witcher some many years ago. We all weren’t older than sixteen and forced …” She gulped. He instinctively tightened his hold on her hand. “to work in a brothel.”</p><p>Burnt onion stench. Fuck!</p><p>“When we heard the Warlord of the North was looking for servants we had worked for several nobles. It never really was a nice working condition. We promised to stay together and only big courts need that many servants.”</p><p>He growled. Just a little. But it seemed to startle Nina out of whatever place she had fallen in.</p><p>“Big fucking courts means rich, asshole, nobles. I get it.”</p><p>He did. He really, really did. His father, kings and men in power. They didn’t hold to a code. They were monsters in disguise and he was glad Geralt had decided to get rid of those monsters.</p><p>Silence had fallen again. He still held Nina’s hand. He thought, she probably did, too. Her fingers rubbed his palm.</p><p>“You know,” she finally broke the silence. Her voice was lighter now. “If you call them assholes, you’re not allowed to call yourself one anymore.”</p><p>He only grunted. He really couldn’t argue against such a statement.</p><p>“Fine.” He grumbled a little. It had felt comfortable being an asshole. Well no. Not comfortable. But he was used to it. Not being an asshole anymore meant becoming something different, and he didn’t know what or who that was. “Help me be someone else.”</p><p>She blinked at him and then sunflower happiness and green grass engulfed him, stronger than he had smelled on her ever before. She grinned at him, and leaned closer. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. He just waited. When she pressed another kiss on his cheek, he smiled.</p><p>He still didn’t know why. But damn, it did feel good to get Nina’s kisses on his cheek.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just to time frame this a little: Before Jaskier comes to the keep, but after Yennefer and her mages arrived. Maybe a year or so before Jaskier gets to Kaer Morhen sounds about right.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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